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Participants:

Date:

2010.12.09

Location:

Landing - Barracks

Synopsis:

Max finally gets down to Landing to take a look around, pick up a report from Yaron that he'd received from Southern Hold and widens his information network be getting L'han to agree to be a further pair of eyes and ears for him.

Rating:

PG13

Logger:

Max

Afternoon has come to Landing with the hot southern sun overhead sending men and women alike looking for shade. L'han himself is one of those, sitting at a table in the men's dorms where he can work on his writing without having his own sweat mar the paper. The greenrider closes the book that he is working on, rubbing at his temples either out of stress or something else.

Yaron, the stocky bald headed ‘smithcrafter’ has likely become a familiar face around Landing over the past few months. Going about his daily business with seemingly as little interaction as possible. The dark haired young man that steps into the men’s dorms with him however, his face is new about these parts with his shoulder bearing no visible knot of affiliation. Something said by Yaron as he hands over a message tube draws a light frown from the newcomer. And while it might seem that he’s not given the area, let alone its occupants so much as a second look, one can be quite sure that Max, (said ‘stranger’) is well aware of where each person is placed and what currently occupies them. Thus L’han’s closing of his book has been taken surreptitious note of.

L'han looks up from his book as Yaron steps in, but L'han eyes go to the one with him and especially when the message tube is handed over prompts a slight frown from the greenrider. But still, not his business, so he just gives a nod to Yaron for the moment, rising to stretch drawing a pop from his back. Must have been sitting there awhile.

“This all there was?” Max asks of Yaron that frown still lingering. “Yeah,” the older man gives with a rub of fingers to his chin, “He says he’ll keep trying though.” - “And the other that I asked you to find out about?” The younger of the two looks set to say more, that is until L’han stands and so his words quickly cut off, the greenrider put under close and almost wary inspection.

L'han returns Max's scrutinizing gaze with one of his own as he walks towards them. There's nothing threatening in his posture or pace, just some curiousity if anything. "Good afternoon, Yaron." And with that, he'll make to go past the pair unless something is said or he is stopped.

As L’han approaches, Max puts a querying look over to Yaron, “Him?” The bald headed older man grunts and nods. That assessing dark eyed look fits back onto the greenrider. Yaron offers a short dip of head and utters, “L’han.” While the Weyr’s beast manager says nothing. Not until L’han has almost passed them by. And then tapping the message tube against his leg as if undecided he calls out, “Greenrider. A moment of your time?”

L'han stops as soon as Max calls. A look over his shoulder and then a nod replying, "Time I have in abundance. What can I do for you?" He turns to face the pair, the curiosity remaining, but clouded. He glances at Yaron and asks, "Care to introduce us?"

Before Yaron can reply, the newcomer holds out a hand in greeting. “Max,” he states simply, “And you’re…L’han, aye?” dark intelligent gaze fitting squarely onto the greenrider. Seems he knows more about landing than one might have thought. Yaron for his part simply fits L’han with an unreadable expression and then with a nod to both men takes a step back, “I’m expected.” Where, he doesn’t say and turning on bootheel, leaves his ‘boss’ and the greenrider alone. Tipping his head toward the table just vacated by L’han, Max states, “Shall we?” In suggestion of returning back there to discuss whatever it is he has in mind to do so.

L'han gives a nod to Yaron as the man departs, reaching out to take the offered hand in one of his own. "Yeah, that'll be me. Welcome Max." He nods as he starts back towards the table and asks, "So what brings you down to Landing, Max? AIVAS?" The computer is the usual reason for most to come to this out of the way place unless they're coming from Southern to Eastern.

His grip is firm with little challenge to it. “Well met,” Max gives in formal greeting as he follows the greenrider back to the table. A short chuckle and shake of head greets the query put to him, “Naw, they don’t want me nowhere near that thing,” AIVAS, “I’ll likely blow it up.” He’s kidding right? Hopefully. His expression draws more serious as he takes up a chair, turning it the wrong way around and dropping into it with arms dangling over its back. “I’m…in need of someone observant that knows what to pay attention to and what to discard.” An intent look fits onto L’han, “Know anyone like that?”

L'han cracks a grin at Max's remark about blowing AIVAS up. "Try not to do that please? The Masters are irritating enough about keeping it safe, Faranth forbid if anything actually happened to it." That would be a bad day. Once the pair are sitting at the table and Max voices his interest the greenrider raises an eyebrow. "Funny, that actually sounds most like what I do down here, aside from flying sweeps for Thread. Or rather are you looking for someone that doesn't ride a dragon? We tend to stick out."

While Max’s mouth pulls into a reciprocal grin, his eyes tell a different story. A streak of concern shadowing their depths for what the greenrider says with regards to the safety of AIVAS. Eventually, that easy going expression slips off his face and he states gravely, “Aye, well they’re right to worry with what’s been going on these days.” For who knows what his northern counterparts might have up their sleeves with regards to Landing. He sure as shards intends keeping a close eye on their activities in these parts however, hence his initial question put to L’han. Nodding for the answer given he drops into silence, carefully considering his reply and then puts forth, “Usually don’t work with dragonriders but Indira seems to think you could be an exception.” Somewhat enigmatic there and then he adds. “These are troubled times L’han, and we need reliable eyes and ears wherever we can put them. However,” a cautionary note enters his lowheld tone, “this is not something that should go out across the dragon network, aye? You see or hear something or someone out of place, you get hold of Yaron and he’ll get a message to either myself or the Headwoman.” Tacking on at the end, “That is if you’re interested?” tone lifting upward in query at the end.

L'han nods to Max and replies, "Indira's a good woman. She came and saw me after I did that little favor for her when the others wouldn't." L'han's posting at Landing is no secret at Eastern as to what he did to get there. "But it seems more things are going on than meets the eye… is there anything in particular I should be looking for? There's a strange fellow that comes and goes from Landing every few weeks. Had him as a trader, but something is… off. My green doesn't like him either." As to the dragon? "Oh Escaeth knows to keep things secret. She knows how it goes… she tells one, they tell Rauzath, and then the entire Weyr knows. Not good for anything that the Weyr doesn't need to know."

L’han is set with a slightly narrowed look for his comment on Indira being a good woman, but Max doesn’t press on the matter. Yet. Time enough at a later date to determine whether or not the greenrider were yet another of his mother’s younger conquests. A brow goes up and dark eyes set an intent look onto the other man for this stranger he’s noticed loitering about Landing. “Anyone in particular you’ve seen him with? Or anywhere he seems to hang about the most?” A short chuckle greets the greenrider’s last, “Randi knows what’s going on. I report to her every seven. However,” a light smirk appears, “no need to worry the woman needlessly, aye?” In other words, he’ll be the buffer between goldrider and potential trouble brewing.

L'han considers the question about the stranger and says, "I often see him around the AIVAS building when he comes into town, but he usually doesn't linger. And he's never in the same spot when he comes to town, which is strange, usually traders will find a spot they like and stick to it. Not he. But no one I've really seen him hang around with either." When Max mentions that he reports to Randi, L'han nods and says, "I had asked Indira when she was going to tell them. So long as one knows, that's fine by me." Even if it isen't the Senior of the two. L'han gives Max a considering look and then asks, "What's your role in all of this though?"

With L’han expanding on the stranger’s activities, the beast manager mutters under his breath, “Sounds like he’s casing the place.” Brows furrow as his mind goes into overdrive so he’s a little long in making reply to the questions set to him which he does through a faint smirk, “Let’s just say that…I have vested interest in knowing the comings and goings of those unaccounted for, hmm?” Hardly the time or place to stand up, beat his chest and proclaim himself Southern’s new renegade crime lord. Dark eyes flicker upward from where they’d dropped idly to the table top and he asks in casual tone, “Heard of any unofficial fights perhaps going on anywhere around here?” Just making conversation there right? Riiight.

L'han nods to Max and replies, "Very well." He is oblivious to the fact that he is talking to Southern's new renegade crime lord and that probably would suit him just fine for the moment. "Flights here? Well if they're flying in or near Landing, Escaeth checks with them and can even bespeak the queens if their stories sound off. However if they're dropping off and picking out far away from the city… I'd say at least a day or two ride by runner, she wouldn't notice."

Max shakes his head, “Fights. Not flights. As in men pounding on each other for the sport of it?” a brow lifting upward in pointed manner of query. Although he does take what L’han says on flights into account and mentally files that information away. Hands clasp together before him in that seemingly easygoing dangle of arms over the chair back, full attention on the greenrider as he awaits reply.

L'han shakes his head, "Fights? Well there is the usual brawl over a woman or whatnot that occurs. But I wouldn't know about any organized fighting like what goes on up north down here. Not to say it doesn't exist and I could find out."

“No offence, but dragonriders are usually the last to hear about them,” for obvious reasons. “A pity your face is so well known about these parts or else you could forego your shoulder knot for a night or two and see what you can turn up.” Max doesn’t look too concerned about that matter and offers L’han a nod, “Keep an ear out and see what you might pick up but don’t push too hard or else they’ll just go deeper underground, aye?”

L'han nods to Max and says, "That'd be the truth of it." About being the last to hear. The greenrider considers and says, "If I do hear anything, I'll let Yaron know… or… you're out of Eastern yeah? I run a ferry up there every so often so if it's something immediate, I can come to you."

Hand unclasp and set to the chair back as Max pushes up to his feet, a nod going L’han’s way, “Much obliged.” Turning the chair back around the right way hands set to pockets and he nods again, “Rather seek me out if you’re coming up the Weyr’s way. You can find me down the beast caverns. Or if I’m not there, ask Waine to point you in the right direction. Big guy, built like a rock outhouse. Hard to miss.” The he gives through a crooked grin as he holds out his hand once again in farewell, “It’s been a pleasure L’han. I look forward to hearing what you’re able to ferret out down here.”

L'han nods and takes Max's hand again to shake farewell. "Same here. Pass on to Indira to stop down with one of those baskets of the kitchen food when she has a chance? The stuff here doesn't taste the same." He grins before he says, "Take care Max. I'll let you know what I find out."

Dark eyes narrow once again in light warning with his mother being brought into conversation but other than a light thinning of lips, Max says nothing of it other than to give a nod that may or may not be in agreement to passing the message onto the Headwoman. Hands back to pockets and he steps away, “Clear skies, L’han.” And with that Eastern Weyr’s beast manager is gone as quickly as he’d appeared.